


Operation: M.E.R.R.Y.

by caliowl



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Awkward Old Men vs Feelings, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Humor, Holiday Fic Exchange, M/M, Winter holiday shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 13:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13571403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caliowl/pseuds/caliowl
Summary: After Mabel is mortified to discover her Grunkle Ford has not celebrated a single Earth winter holiday in over three decades, she decides to rectify this egregious error. As with any Pines endeavor, the experience quickly becomes wild, strange and, ultimately, deeply personal.





	Operation: M.E.R.R.Y.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cellard00rs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/gifts).



> My 2017 Stancest Secret Santa gift for cellard00rs, who is an incredibly talented writer and a very lovely person! I'm so glad I could gift you something for all the amazing writing you've contributed to fandom that's inspired me so much! And a great, big THANK YOU to my beta yehvaru for looking this over for me during her own holiday celebrations! You really helped me end this on a high note!

Stanford Pines had gotten used to periods of silence on the small boat he shared with his brother. There was only so much he and Stanley could talk about, after all, before things petered out and a companionable silence took its place. But this sudden, almost _oppressive_ silence was unbearable in its totality. Ford could feel all eyes on him (those in the cabin with him, as well as the couple of pairs countries away) and swore that even the ocean itself had slowed its never-ending pulse to listen in and catch his reply.

On the screen before him, his great-niece’s devastated gaze seemed to bore into him, cutting his heart to the quick. He quickly groped for a decent excuse. “It – I mean - Mabel, sweetheart, you have to understand! I was on the run from Bill, evading capture in multiple dimensions! Holidays just…weren’t a priority.”

“For _thirty years_ Grunkle Ford??” She demanded, scooting up closer to the camera until her face took up the entirety of the laptop screen. Her brother cried out in indignation from somewhere off screen and she shushed him hurriedly as she persisted. “You didn’t celebrate _one_ winter holiday? Like, _at all_ ? No Christmas? Hanukkah? Winter Solstice? _Nothing_?”

Ford looked to Stan in a silent plea but his brother simply shrugged. “I’m not the one bone-headed enough to admit to never celebrating holidays for three decades to _Mabel_. This is all on you, knucklehead.”

He returned his gaze to the laptop screen once more, his mouth open to say _something_ , he was sure ( _what_ , exactly, eluded him at present), when Mabel seemed to take pity on him. “Grunkle Ford, it’s ok,” she said, eyes softening. “I mean, it’s not _ok_ -ok, but…I mean, I get it. Things were tough back then. You were busy trying to not get turned into a golden Ken doll or whatever-” Stanley snorted in surprise laughter behind him and Ford turned a warning glare on him, feeling an odd mixture of disappointment and a tingling heat in his stomach when his brother simply winked cheekily back at him. “-but you’ve got us now!” Mabel grinned brilliantly, her braces flashing brightly in the brilliant glow of her laptop screen. “And more importantly, you’ve got _me_ now! Mabel Pines: Holiday Expert Extraordinaire! We were gonna visit you guys for Winter Break this year anyways – I’ll just make sure that this year is the greatest, most exciting, most _amazing_ holiday break you’ve ever known! That’s a Mabel Pines Promise!”

His heart melted in his chest. “Thank you very much, Mabel,” he said earnestly, “but you know I already consider this the best holiday break ever, since you and your brother will be there to celebrate it with us.”

“D’aww, you old _sap_ !” She giggled, waving his words away as she finally backed off from the screen a bit to grab Dipper to her, ignoring his annoyed squawk and desperate attempts at freedom. “That’s sweet an’ all, but you deserve the _real deal_ this year! No excuses! Right, bro-bro?”

Her brother, resigned to being in his sister’s grasp for the foreseeable future, gave his great-uncle an abashed grin. “You know how Mabel is when she’s on a mission, Great-Uncle Ford. It’s usually best to just get out of her way.” He laughed as his sister took mock offense at that, play-wrestling him and getting him in a headlock. “But it _would_ be really fun to go all-out this year!” Came the muffled admittance from beneath Mabel’s sweater-clad arm.

“Alright ya little gremlins, enough o’ that,” Stanley chided, appearing suddenly at Ford’s side. “You’ll get your victim in a few months’ time when December rolls around. Until then, I gotta use ‘im to get this stinkin’ heater workin’. Darn thing only ever seems to work fer him.” He cast an accusatory look askance in Stanford’s direction.

Ford threw one right back at him. “Did you remember to turn it on this time?”

Stan threw his hands up in the air. “ONE TIME! _One_ time that happened, and you’ll never let me live it down!”

“Well, if you’d simply followed the instructions carefully _like I_ _asked you to-_ ”

“And if _you’d_ stop being such a know-it-all, poindexter- _nerd-_ ”

“GRUNKLE STAN! GREAT-UNCLE FORD!”

Both of them turned sharply towards the laptop in surprise, having completely forgotten they weren’t alone on the boat.

“You know, you _could_ just tell us you need to go and sign off, like normal people,” Dipper chuckled.

“Aw, but that’s not _them_ , dippin’ sauce!” Mabel countered good-naturedly. “I’ve decided it’s one of the ways I’ll be able to tell if they’re doppelgangers - or possessed!” She turned towards the camera with a serious expression. “Grunkle Stan. If that’s _really_ you over there, I want you to hang up _now_ . You know. _In that special way you do_ ,” she said in an exaggeratedly stilted manner accompanied by several obvious and excessive winks.

“This ain’t a phone, pumpkin. Nothin’ to hang up. Just some weird, nerdy tech that gets your great-uncle Ford all hot and bothered-”

“ _Stanley!_ ” Ford cried, scandalized, cheeks and the tips of his ears prickling warmth as laughter came through the speakers.

“What?” he asked, all devilish smirk with zero innocence. “S’not like it ain’t true-”

“Bye Grunkle Stan! Good luck, Great-Uncle Ford!” Dipper called over his sister’s giggles, waiting to hear their own farewells before disconnecting the call.

Stanford glared at his brother. “I don’t see why you have to end _all_ of our calls with the children that way, Stanley.”

Stanley simply shrugged and reached his arms up over his head in a long stretch. “Like Mabel said, it’s unique. Plus, we had to get off the line before she started planning the whole thing right then and there!”

Ford realized belatedly that he was meant to respond and tore his gaze away from where it had been fixed on the pale strip of skin that had been exposed during Stan’s stretch. “Surely she couldn’t squeeze too much in? They’re only visiting for a few days, after all, and they’ll be with their parents half the time.”

Stan shook his head slowly at his twin’s naiveté. “Oh Sixer. Sixer, Sixer, Sixer. You underestimate the power of Mabel.”

Stanford was silent for a few beats as he took that statement in. Then, “…I suppose it would behoove me to clear my schedule for the entirety of their stay?”

“Better make it clean as a whistle, Ford,” his brother affirmed with a laugh. “You ain’t goin’ _nowhere_.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The months seemed to pass incredibly quickly and before Stanford knew it, he and Stanley were back in a practically snowed-in Mystery Shack in Gravity Falls. Soos and Melody were kind enough to offer them one of the converted guest rooms on the second floor while the Shack remained in operation, for which Ford was incredibly grateful. Stanley was in his element in the Shack, treating it like the second home that it had become as he schmoozed with customers and told tall tales to a star-struck Soos and several other townsfolk, and Stanford wanted nothing less for his twin. Home was a central part of the holidays, after all, and he wanted to make sure that their first holiday together in forty years was everything it could be and more for Stan.

The loft where the children had stayed the summer was also offered, though it was declined.

“I’m so used to this one sawing wood in that tiny little boat, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I was actually given space and silence for once!” Stan had cracked, though the arm around Ford’s shoulders lessened the sting of the tease. Ford felt a pleased warmth overtake him at the realization that his twin still wanted to share a space with him, even after months of being crammed together in the Stan O’ War II.

“I’m surprised you can even _hear_ my snores over the cacophony coming from your side,” he shot back, grinning and laughing wildly when his brother growled his protests and gave him a couple of playful shakes. His grin grew wider when the arm around his shoulders pulled him in tighter to fit seamlessly into Stanley’s side afterwards, as though Ford belonged there.

“GRUNKLE STAN! GRUNKLE FORD!”

Two small blurs seemingly burst out of nowhere and latched onto the older men, sending Stanley sprawling into the wall behind him and causing Ford to nearly topple over. Stan was the first to recover, wrapping his arms tightly around the little body clinging desperately to his waist.

“Mabel! Welcome back, pumpkin!”

Ford pulled back a bit to study the face under the head of hair he’d instinctively put his hand in to steady himself and beamed at the wide smile he found underneath. “Hello Dipper! I’m very glad you both could make it back to Gravity Falls to spend the holidays with us.”

“Me too, Great Uncle Ford!” Dipper pulled back from the hug and produced a small ringed notebook and a pen from his back pocket. “I was thinking, if we had enough time, maybe we could go out and scout around for some anomalies together! I’ve been doing some of my own research at home, but I’d really like to add something to my notebook that we worked together on. For reference.”

“I hear this week is going to be quite the whirlwind of activity! But I’m sure we can carve out a little bit of time to go on an adventure or two.” Ford winked and Dipper perked up.

“Really Great-Uncle Ford? That would be-”

“SWITCH!”

Dipper was suddenly shunted aside by his twin as Mabel dove straight into Ford’s arms.

“Oh Grunkle Ford, I’m _so_ excited!” she hugged him with a ferocity that stole the breath from his lungs, but he couldn’t help returning the blinding smile she turned on him afterwards. “I’ve been planning this for _months_! We’re gonna celebrate like it’s going out of style!”

“I can’t wait to see what you have in store for us, Mabel! But are you sure your parents won’t feel left out?”

She waved a hand idly as if shooing away an insignificant fly. “Nah, they’ll be fine. I’ve got a different plan in store for them when we go back home to California! Plus, we still go home to them every night, so it’s not like we’ll never see them – and they’re gonna _love_ exploring Gravity Falls! The forest will give Mom the chance to practice her capoeira and the town will give Dad the chance to practice his picture-taking!” She smiled and leaned up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, which Ford obliged by bending down to meet her half-way. “He always accidentally cuts the heads off of his subjects. It’s pretty great!”

Ford threw his head back with a bark of laughter. “Indeed! Well then, I’m all yours for the next few days! What’s the plan?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Mabel backed away from him and spread her arms wide with a wide, gleaming smile to match. “It’s time to implement Operation: Mabel’s Emergency Radically Rockin’ Yule! Or Operation: M.E.R.R.Y. for short!” She winked playfully. “I’ve planned a whole _ton_ of different holiday activities from all _sorts_ of different traditions! We’ll sing, play games, build snowmen, bake cookies – _everything_ !” She pointed at Ford dramatically. “So buckle up, Grunkle Ford, because you’re in for a busy week! And _you too_ , Grunkle Stan!” She cried, turning to address the man currently attempting to sneak out of the foyer unseen. “This is a Pines Family Operation, and no mission would be complete without you!”

“That’s sweet an’ all, Mabel-honey,” Stan replied, folding his large arms across his chest. “But I was thinkin’ maybe this whole ‘operation’ thing could be completed with, like, sixty percent of me. _Maybe_ sixty-five.”

“ _One hundred percent_ Grunkle Stan!” Mabel demanded. When Stan opened his mouth to reply, she cut him off with “no haggling!” and he abruptly shut it again with a heavy sigh.

“So…” Dipper drew out, looking between his twin and his miffed grunkle uncertainly. “Are we starting now?”

“Sure are!” Mabel nodded.

Ford hesitated to ask, but he was never able to restrain his curiosity when answers were close at hand. “What’s first?”

His great-niece bared her teeth in one of the largest grins he’d seen from her yet before striking a pose similar to what he had seen on the covers comic books about superheroes his brother used to read when they were children. “WARFARE!”

Stanford raised a brow in her direction before looking to Stanley for clarity. “Warfare?”

Stan rubbed a hand over his eyes in resignation. “This is when that thirty-five to forty percent of freedom would have _really_ come in handy.”

 

**Snowball Fight and Snow Angels**

Ford waited with baited breath behind a snow-laden bush, backed against it in an attempt to blend in with the surrounding environment. Light footfalls came from behind him, the delicate crunch of compacting snow signaling the arrival of his opponents. Breathing out slowly, he reflexively tightened and loosened the grip on the ball of snow in his left hand, trying to calm his nerves and stay alert for the signal.

The sound stopped abruptly. Ford held his breath, trying desperately not to make a sound or sudden move that would betray his hiding place. But it must not have worked, because as he waited he could hear that soft, ominous sound start up again.

Heading _right_ in his direction.

He efficiently shut down his animal impulse to flee, something he’d gotten terribly good at during his decades-long game of cat-and-mouse against Bill Cipher, and focused instead on his balance, taking care not to shift his weight too noticeably. All he had to do was wait for the-

A loud cry from above shattered the near-silence of the forest, somehow ear-piercing and guttural at the same time. To others, it may have sounded like a sick baboon.

To the one it was meant for, it was a call to action.

Ford stood up and whipped around, locating his targets instantly and began his assault. With aim that he would have envied during his less-than athletic youth, he fluidly began throwing snowball after snowball from the small mountain he had prepared on the ground beside him and the small cache he had collected in the crook of his right arm.

Cries of surprise and outrage met his ears and he bared his teeth in victory as the last of the snow drifted down to reveal Stanley and Dipper covered from head to toe in the frozen, white powder.

“I think that about wraps things up!” Came a call from above, and Ford looked up just in time to see Mabel drop down from her previous hiding space up in the tree next to him.

“This isn’t fair! Mabel used her grappling hook to get up there!” Dipper protested hotly as he attempted to dislodge some snow that had apparently gotten into his ear by swatting furiously at it with a gloved hand.

The accused merely shrugged a shoulder. “Sorry bro-bro. I can’t help it if I use my strengths to my advantage. All’s fair in love and snowball fighting, right?”

Ford made his way over to his sputtering twin, who seemed to be having trouble swatting all the snow off of his winter coat. “Good game, Stanley,” he said charitably, chuckling a little when his twin responded with some disgruntled muttering. A clump of snow caught his eye on Stanley’s shoulder and he went about gently swiping it off with light flicks of his wrist. Once satisfied with Stan’s right shoulder, he soon spotted another clump on the left and went about brushing that off as well. When the last of the snow detached from Stanley’s jacket Ford looked up for more and was immediately brought up short by the intensity in his twin’s deep brown eyes.

“All’s fair…” Stan muttered, sounding far away as he brought a hand up to rest on Ford’s chest, right over his heart.

Ford could feel that insidious heat blooming in his ears and cheeks again, spreading down to confuse his insides, which seemed to contract in on themselves sharply. “Stanley…?”

Suddenly his vision went white. It took Ford a few confused blinks to realize it was because he was looking up at an overcast sky before a sudden weight on his stomach brought him out of his reverie. Stan was sitting on his stomach. He opened his mouth to ask-

And received a face full of snow.

The biting cold was a shock to his system and he cried out as the sensation continued on his neck and chest. His brother was shoving snow _inside of his clothes_!

Stanford snarled something _very_ nasty in Irikiakian that got him thrown into a prison in dimension 3G-! for three months. The only response Stanley gave to that was to attempt to shove snow into his fallen brother’s pants.

“Stanley! Get. _Off_!” Ford demanded, thrashing wildly in an attempt to unseat his bulkier twin.

“Not until you surrender!” He cried, distributing his weight in a way that effectively prevented his victim from gaining freedom.

Ford struggled for a little while longer before going limp in submission. “Fine! I surrender! You win. Happy?”

Stanley smiled down at him, the brightness in his eyes accentuated by the mid-afternoon sun peeking through the clouds. “Very.”

“…Excellent. Good-good for you,” Ford muttered, trying to clear his throat of a sudden obstruction. “Now, would you mind…?”

Stanley remained hovering over him for a while, increasing Ford’s discomfort and inviting forbidden thoughts to arise to the forefront of his mind, before he finally rolled off with a great huff of air. As if the mere act of collapsing on his side was a major inconvenience.

Stanford rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. You realize this, don’t you?”

Stanley looked at him across the distance of their outstretched arms. “‘All’s fair in love and snowball fights.’ That’s what Mabel said. Dipper an’ I never _technically_ surrendered, so we never technically lost.”

“Is that what you’re telling yourself?”

One side of Stan’s mouth kicked up in an amused smirk. “‘History is written by the victors’, Sixer. If I see a technicality and call it strategy, then strategy it is. At least, according to _some_ egg-head I know…”

That actually got Ford to chuckle. “Never mind what I said before. You’re not ridiculous. You’re _impossible_.”

Stan laughed whole-heartedly, closing his eyes to the intensity, and Ford took the time to admire the picture he made. Large barrel chest convulsing in glee, white gusts of condensation streaming forth from between pink lips and snowflakes dotting his dark lashes.

“Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford! You’re both geniuses!” Mabel declared from nearby. Ford turned his head and saw her race over before flopping onto her back gracefully into the snow next to him. “Let’s make snow angels! C’mon, Dipper! Make yours next to mine!”

He assented with an indulgent chuckle. “Sure thing, Mabel.”

Ford hadn’t made snow angels in _years_. He enjoyed the simple act of moving his arms and legs to create a fun imprint in the snow, remembering the times he’d done so a lifetime ago while visiting family away from Glass Shard Beach. Enjoying the feel of the snow shifting around him and the warmth of another small hand clasping his to haul him out of his latest creation.

“Earth to poindexter! You want outta there or what?”

He snapped his eyes open to find past and present overlapping each other, a gloved hand reaching out to him in invitation. He grasped it gratefully and giggled when his brother pulled him too hard and they stumbled into one another. “Thank you, Stanley.”

“‘Course,” he replied with an easy smile and a quick squeeze to Ford’s hand before dropping it. “Now let’s dig these hellions out of the snow so we can throw them inside. I can’t feel my nose anymore and if I find out it’s gone it’ll be _everyone’s_ problem.”

Ford cast one last glance back at their handiwork, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction curl in his chest when his eyes landed on the space where the angels connected, hand in hand, before he turned back to help his twin retrieve the children.

 

**Gingerbread House Competition**

“Not to toot our own horns too much here, gentlemen, but I’m _pretty_ sure we’ve got this one _in the bag_ ,” Mabel announced playfully, lightly patting the literal garbage bag currently acting as an ad hoc curtain shrouding their latest culinary masterpiece.

Stanley, by contrast, was not as reserved.

“In yer nerdy _faces_ , dweebs!” He crowed, throwing an arm around his great-niece’s shoulders in triumph and sharply jabbing in Dipper and Stanford’s general direction with a large pointer finger. “Prepare to feel overwhelmed by the sting of defeat and awe of the beauty that is…” He whipped the garbage bag off with a flourish to reveal-

“Princess Licorice’s Candy Palace!”

It truly was an impressive sight. Mabel and Stan had managed to make an entire _castle_ out of gingerbread, consisting of four waffle cone towers, a bountiful sugar courtyard lightly dusted in coconut snow shavings, and an exquisitely iced castle wall complete with an intricately woven sour string candy portcullis.

“As you can clearly see, Princess Licorice has quite an eye for architecture,” Mabel declared, her voice the perfect imitation of a tour guide. “Curtain walls provide protection for this glamorous castle, housing the royal Licorice family as well as her marshmallow and gummy subjects! Gumdrop cobblestones lead from the entrance to the front gates, where candy corn soldiers guard the tastier castle-dwellers with their toothpick spears and pretzel staffs. Fabulous _and_ functional, this candy monarch has got it goin’ _on_. I can’t imagine anywhere else a candy subject would want to live more! Up top!”

She held a hand up high in invitation to Stan, who didn’t hesitate to meet it with an exuberant high-five and a boisterous laugh. “Beat _that_ Poindexter!”

Stanford caught Dipper’s gaze and nodded once, sagely. Dipper returned the gesture and audibly cleared his throat to catch the attention of their rambunctious family members.

“That sounds all well and good, sis, but you forget one thing.”

“Oh yeah?” Mabel challenged, eyes narrow and arms akimbo. “And what’s that?”

Dipper smirked. “Never underestimate a nerd when it comes to engineering. SHA-BAM!” He cried, throwing an arm out to Ford who, recognizing his cue, whipped aside their own garbage bag curtain to reveal-

“Belgian waffles!” Stan groaned, slapping a hand over his eyes in exasperation while Mabel gasped happily and began eagerly snapping photos of her relatives in front of their gingerbread entry for her holiday scrap book. “Is there anything you two _won’t_ overthink?”

Looming behind Ford and Dipper was a surprisingly intimidating gingerbread structure, stacked high on what appeared to be a cupcake mountain and dotted by imposing graham cracker guard towers in all four corners.

“During such a treacherous time of year, candy rulers can’t afford _not_ to overthink their security, Stanley,” Ford intoned gravely, though the effect was ruined when his stern frown cracked into a gleeful smile after his brother returned his look with an annoyed stare. “Besides, this little challenge provided a wonderful opportunity to get creative with strategy. Wouldn’t you agree, Dipper?”

“You bet, Great Uncle Ford!” Dipper affirmed, puffing out his chest in pride. “This gingerbread fortress is virtually _impenetrable_ . Largely inaccessible via land due to being located on high cupcake ground and surrounded by a hot candy lava moat, the only access point is _this_ ,” he points at a bulky part of the gingerbread wall, “pretzel drawbridge. That really works!” Dipper crowed, moving something inside that caused the structure to fall down and come back up at will. “Once inside you’ll find an army of marshmallow soldiers armed to the…uh…whatever they have instead of teeth,” he faltered awkwardly, “with plastic swords ready to pour hot fudge over the walls to deter any would-be invaders. We also made them these super-cool mini-crossbows that shoot toothpick bolts and a couple of functioning candy cane trebuchets that fire jawbreakers!” He absentmindedly slapped Mabel’s hand away from the aforementioned devices as he continued to look at his Grunkles, pointedly ignoring her exaggerated pout.

“Admit it, Stanley,” Ford smirked, folding his arms over his chest, “we won this round.”

Stan merely sharpened his glare, never taking his eyes off his brother as he tossed a question over his shoulder. “Mabel, sweetie? Ya got all the pictures ya need fer that book o’ yours?”

“Almost!” She chirped, grabbing her brother to her and positioning them in front of their Grunkles between the two gingerbread structures. “Everybody say ‘high fructose corn syrup’!”

“High – huh?” Stan questioned, crying out in shock and pain as the camera flash caught him by surprise.

“It’s _perfect_!” Mabel declared, staring at the image on her phone while Stanley rubbed violently at his shut eyes and muttered darkly behind her. “I’m all done, Grunkle Stan!”

“Excellent.” He eyed Ford with an unsettling grin. “‘Virtually impenetrable’, huh? Let’s find out. HEY SOOS! WE’RE DONE! CLEAN UP’S ALL YOU!”

“ _NO!_ ” Dipper and Ford wailed in unison, Dipper’s arms reaching out in supplication towards his mischievous grunkle; but it was in vain, and their hearts seized in their chests as the first heavy steps thundered down the stairs towards them.

“Aw, dudes, _finally_ ! I’ve been waiting _all day_ to-” Soos stopped dead in the doorway, transfixed at the sight of the massive, sugary structures.

“Soos! Eat Mabel’s first! _Eat Mabel’s first!_ ” Dipper demanded, gesturing wildly to the gingerbread castle while his twin gasped in betrayal and leapt on his back in retaliation.

“Dipper, how _could_ you?” She cried, wrenching his pine tree cap over his eyes and assaulting her temporarily blinded sibling with her fists swinging wildly in mock-battle. “There are innocent candy people in there! What did they ever do to you, you _monster_?”

Soos, having never taken his eyes off of the gingerbread cornucopia in front of him, absentmindedly held out his fez to Ford as the teens continued to squabble nearby.

Ford started at the gesture. “I, uh. What-?”

“Dude. Hold this a sec?”

“Certainly.” Stanford quickly grabbed his father’s old Shriners hat, fussing a bit with the gold tassel on top as he absently carded his fingers through it to settle the individual strands properly. “But why-?”

The current owner of the Mystery Shack took a deep breath and spared Ford a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. “’Cause I’ve gotta job to do. And it’s gonna get _messy_.”

Before Stanford could drum up a response to that Soos seemed to vanish before his eyes, taking on a speed that Ford would have believed impossible for a human being to achieve without some sort of mechanized assistance. By the way his family reacted (or, to be more precise, _didn’t_ react) it was clear that Soos had performed such feats before. His fingers itched for a pen and he gripped the fez instead, watching with fascination as the young man took turns devouring both the castle and the fortress in a whirlwind of frenzied activity. Gingerbread crumbled easily under his fingers like tissue paper and he barely seemed to take time to breathe as he practically _inhaled_ both cookie creations in the span of minutes.

“All our work. Just… _gone_ ,” came a woeful voice next to him, and Ford noticed Dipper had come over to stand close to his side.

Stanford sighed and wrapped an arm around his great-nephew’s shoulders. “I’m afraid so. That’s the nature of gingerbread architecture, I suppose.”

“If it’s any consolation, Dipper, I thought your gingerbread house-fortress-thing tasted _amazing_ with that fudge and graham cracker combo.” Soos acknowledged sympathetically, thought the effect was somewhat ruined when he used a plastic mini-sword from Dipper’s fallen soldiers to pick at the bits of candy stuck between his teeth. Dipper heaved a despondent sigh.

“You know, Dipper, I managed to swipe these before Grunkle Stan called Soos in.” Mabel appeared suddenly at his shoulder, holding the two candy cane trebuchets.

Dipper stared at them, aghast. “You saved them for me?”

“Well…yes and no,” Mabel hedged. “I had a feeling you’d be pretty bummed about your fortress getting eaten, but I also _really_ wanted to try these things out.” This managed to get a laugh out of her brother and Mabel beamed, encouraged. “So? Whaddya say, dippin’ sauce? Wanna give these things a real test-drive and try them out on the gnomes?”

“Oh. I, uh, I dunno, Mabel,” Dipper replied, looking askance at his Great Uncle Ford. “That doesn’t seem very responsible…”

Ford threw his head back in a laugh. “Are you kidding? It’d be irresponsible _not_ to try and impede those little pests! Do you have _any_ idea what havoc they’ve wreaked in my labs over the years?” He tousled Dipper’s chestnut hair. “I insist that you both go out there and test out our new potential gnome repellents! And make sure to hit one each for me,” he added with a wink.

Dipper looked stunned while Mabel looked like someone had just given her the keys to a candy store. “Thanks Great Uncle Ford! We won’t let you down!” And with that she was off like a shot, dragging her slowly recovering twin behind her.

Stanford felt a presence come up beside him and looked askance at his twin. “Mutually assured destruction Stanley? Over a _gingerbread_ contest?”

“You said it yourself, Ford. It’s a tough time of year for gingerbread houses and those who live in ‘em,” Stanley said gravely. Ford snorted a laugh and Stan turned toward him slightly with a twinkle in his eye and a slightly upturned corner of his lips. “Poor Princess Licorice!” He continued, starting to warm to the “drama” of it all while Ford prepared himself for a show.

He did not have to wait long.

“She was only seventeen! Her father lost to a war when she was but a child and her mother taken by the plague on her fifteenth birthday, she did the best she could with the limited guidance provided to her! Do you think she _wanted_ this?” He cried, gesticulating wildly with his arms while Ford gave into his giggles. “Do you think she wanted war? With some upstart neighboring nerds who care more about architecture than innocent gummy bears? Of _course_ not!”

Stan grabbed at Ford’s shoulders, grinning like a mad man at his twin’s feeble attempts to shake him off, weakened by laughter. “She wanted _freedom_ , Ford! Freedom to do what she wanted. Figure out who she was! But she couldn’t afford such luxury! When she was called into battle she went, and when she stared Death in the face she didn’t blink! She stood her ground, and fell as a warrior!” He grabbed his giggling brother to his chest and buried his face in his shoulder. “It was tragic! Utterly tragic!”

“There, there,” Ford mock-soothed, allowing himself to be drawn into the fun if only peripherally. As small as his role may be, he attempted to follow his twin’s lead and play it up to the hilt. He grabbed his brother back just as tightly, and ran a hand through his hair. “She was a very good leader, indeed. Perhaps now she can find peace.”

Stanley hummed softly in response and Ford chuckled some more, losing himself in the repetitive movement of running his fingers through his twin’s hair. In fact, it was only when Stan sighed softly and turned so that his nose was in the crook of Ford’s neck that he realized he’d been holding his brother and “soothing” him for quite a while. For how long, exactly, he wasn’t sure, but he knew instinctively that it was long enough to have overplayed their hand with the “joke”.

Panicking, he wasn’t quite sure how to smoothly extricate himself from the situation and play it off as normal. It wasn’t until Stanley pushed forward slightly and Ford could feel the puffs of humid breath on his neck and the hands roaming freely and soothingly along his back that he considered for the first time that perhaps he didn’t have to.

Slowly and smoothly, trying not to spook him, Ford slid his hand from his brother’s hair to the nape of his neck, alternating between playing idly with the small hairs there and lightly massaging the muscles. He was gratified when Stanley moaned quietly in response, pressing closer. Stanford tightened his hold, securing Stan within the circle of his arms, and soaked in the closeness, relishing the scent of soap and sandalwood aftershave. He had wanted this for so long and it seemed like it was finally within his grasp, that perhaps Stanley felt the same way! He had to know, had to be certain. If this was what he thought it was…

“Stanley-“

“Hey dudes?”

Stanford didn’t think he’d ever moved faster in his _life_ . One second he was completely ensconced in _Stanley_ and the next second he felt like he was choking on air. _How can one choke on clean air?_ Somehow he’d managed to put two feet of distance between himself and his twin, and Stanley had managed to fix it so that he was facing the exact _opposite_ direction. The only way you might have been able to tell they moved like lightning a second or so ago was by the inexplicably faster breaths they were taking.

“Yeah, Soos?” Stan asked casually, taking in a much-needed gulp of air.

Soos looked between them for a long time. Ford began to fidget under the scrutiny, shifting his weight from side to side like he used to as a small boy when his father would turn his hawk-like gaze on him. Then,

“Do you hear that screaming?”

That was…unexpected. Stanford blinked in surprise a few times before attempting to focus on sound that _wasn’t_ Stanley. Now that he was open to the world around him, he _did_ become aware of some high-pitched noises coming from outside…

…

“THE KIDS!”

 

**Caroling – Gravity Falls Style**

“How much further Grunkle Ford?” Mabel asked, after they had been hiking through the Gravity Falls forest for what felt like half an hour.

“We’re very close now, my dear! Just a little further.”

“I hope so! Otherwise I’m pretty certain all you’d have succeeded in doing was causing me to turn into a human popsicle,” Stanley grumped as he continued to drag himself through the snow.

“Forgive me. It’s been a few decades and dimensions since I’ve been here last – aha!” Ford crowed triumphantly as he appeared to locate what he was searching for. “You see that little cave just up ahead there?” He asked, pointing ahead with both pointer fingers so that both Mabel and Dipper would be able to see it amongst an outcropping of rocks. They nodded. “ _That’s_ where we’re headed.”

“I swear, Ford, there better be gold or a lifetime supply of Pitt Cola in there or something or else I may have to strangle you.” Stan warned as he trudged ahead of his brother, only half-joking.

“Well, if those are truly the only things you’d be willing to come all the way out here for I suppose I’m in trouble then,” Ford teased him, playfully nudging an elbow into his side. “But I’d like to think this worth the journey despite that.”

“Is there some sort of cool crystal in there, Great Uncle Ford? Like the height-altering ones?” Dipper asked.

“Not that I saw last I was there, no.”

“What about creatures, then?” Mabel gasped sharply and suddenly, spinning around to face her great-uncle in a flash. “Are there some super-cute, adorable anomalies in there that give perfect hugs and make bubbles?”

“I almost wish there was, but I’m afraid not.”

“Then what’s so great about this place?” Stan’s came out in a distorted warble as he stood inside the cave, looking perplexed. “It looks like hundreds of others in the area to me.”

“This one is special, I assure you. But it’s only revealed during the winter, when icicles form like so.” He gestured towards the ceiling, where hundreds of icicles hung.

“Ok. …So, Grunkle Ford. What’s this cave’s deal?” Mabel raised an eyebrow. “Do the icicles come alive and terrorize the townsfolk or something?”

“You’d think so, in Gravity Falls, but no,” Ford adjusted his glasses with a chuckle. “The cave and the icicles within are actually part of an ancient tradition, passed down by the native people who used to live on this land hundreds of years ago. Legend has it that during winter the spirits are allowed to visit the land of the living for a brief period of time. If you perform a song and the spirits find it an adequate tribute, they will bestow blessings upon you.”

“Oh my god! Grunkle Ford, is this cave _haunted_?” Mabel asked excitedly. “Are we going to see ghosts?”

“Oh, please no,” Dipper moaned, taking a few steps back from his place in the cave closer to the exit. “Been there, done that. Several times. I really don’t wanna have to deal with any more ghosts for a while.”

“You kids have come across ghosts here?”

“Grunkle Ford, you have _no_ idea!” Mabel put a hand on his arm. “Remind us to tell you about it sometime!”

“Or not!” Dipper blurted. “You know. I mean…it’s not that interesting? You could probably just leave it. Yeah. Yeah, that’s good! Let’s all just leave it, and never discuss it again.”

The cave was silent for a few beats after that, until-

“Alright kid. I dunno what happened to you out there, but it sounds like a story you should not be telling _anyone_.” Stanley emphasized the last word by pointing the opening of his water bottle at Dipper. “Especially your parents, capisce? You had a great summer here, with no mental scarring or battles with a dream demon whatsoever, and everything’s great. End of story!” He took a pull from his water and pulled away with a loud, satisfied gasp. “So, Ford, what’re we doin’ here? Karaoke?”

“Well, actually…yes?” Ford scratched the back of his head awkwardly while Mabel squealed. “Mabel has been kind enough to come up with this whole plan for me to experience Earth winter holiday traditions and I just wanted to sort of pay her back with one that I knew about in Gravity Falls.”

“Grunkle Ford! This is _perfect_!” Mabel beamed as she bounced excitedly in place. “We haven’t gone caroling yet! We can do it here!” She looked all around the cave. “Is there anything else we need to do? Set up candles or dance or meditate or something?”

Stanford smiled at her enthusiasm. “You can if you want to, but it’s not required. Here,” he walked over to a lower section of the ceiling and plucked an icicle off with a _snap!_ , “watch the icicle while I sing, ok?”

Mabel gasped so loud it had everyone turning their heads to watch her to make sure she didn’t faint. “You’re going to sing, Grunkle Ford? Oh my god, hold on, I have to get a video of this!”

“Is that entirely necessary?” Stanford asked weakly, practically jumping out of his skin when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, Ford? Nervous?” Stan asked. “Best get over it ASAP. Mabel’s _big_ into music. She even got _me_ to sing, for crying out loud! You’ll be fine though,” he added, scratching at the side of one cheek. “You always knew how to sing. Yer a natural.”

Before Ford could figure out how to respond, he felt a small hand tugging at his sweater sleeve and turned to see Mabel watching him eagerly with her phone held up. “Ok Grunkle Ford! I’m ready for the magic to happen!”

“Uh…oh,” Ford mumbled awkwardly, causing Stan to double over in laughter.

“Grunkle Stan! Shh! You’ll get your turn next! Let Grunkle Ford go first!” Mabel admonished, peeking around from behind her camera to better chastise her grunkle.

Ford took a deep breath. “Right,” he muttered, holding up the icicle once more, “here goes.”

He chose to sing a few bars of “Deck the Halls”, seeing as a good chunk of it was filler and therefore easier to retain the lyrics. Slowly, after a few lines, Mabel became aware of some extra blue light that was ruining her recording. She popped out from behind her phone again to tell someone to turn off the light, when she realized that the light was coming from the icicle in Ford’s hand.

“Whoa!” she breathed, forgetting all about recording Ford singing to focus on the piece of ice her grunkle held.

“Interesting, isn’t it? I’m not entirely sure what causes this phenomenon myself – my working theory is that there are bioluminescent creatures that get trapped within the ice during a migration – but it seems that singing does indeed affect only the icicles within this cave somehow. But look – see?” The crystal began to dim, the blue light inside slowly fading away until the icicle looked like it was back to normal again. “It doesn’t hold the light permanently. It would appear that singing charges it up a certain amount, but if it doesn’t continue then the icicle soon loses its light. Like an old battery that can’t retain a charge.”

“So if singing does this to just the icicles in the cave, I wonder what that whole thing about spirits is all about. Have you ever actually seen one, Grunkle Ford?”

“I can’t say that I have, Mabel,” Ford said with a shake of his head. “I always figured that the icicles were the blessing. Temporary tools able to light the way in the darker winter environment.”

“Well, let’s see if we can find out for ourselves what these blessings are all about!” Mabel cried. “Let’s gift it up in here with the power of song!”

Everyone followed her lead, going from Hanukkah songs to Christmas songs to some pop songs that even Ford had become familiar with. She even got them to dance a little, twirling Dipper and bouncing around Stan and Ford, joking that it felt like they were at a party with all the blue light surrounding them. The Pines Family was in the zone, so losing themselves in the moment that it took quite a few before Dipper noticed something odd about the cave.

“Grunkle Ford?” He asked, hesitantly. “Is it supposed to get…whiter?”

Stanford turned in a slow circle to observe the cave, discovering that the shade of blue was indeed lightening to the point where it could almost be called white. “This is…new. I’m not sure.” He bit his lower lip in thought. “Perhaps we should-”

It was at this point that Mabel and Stanley reached a high note in their song, and everything dissolved into bright, white light.

After that, came a great deal of terrified screaming.

“OH MY GOSH! I’M _BLIND_ !” Mabel cried out in horror. “How will I see rainbows _now_?!”

“Am I dead?! From singing some dumb BABBA song?! I survived Rico and prison in Brazil for _this_ ?! _SERIOUSLY?_ ”

“Ooooh my god, why didn’t I say something earlier?? Now we’re all dead or blind or dead _and_ blind and it’s all my fault!”

And with that the world resolved.

The Pines Family stood around for a few seconds blinking in the newly darkened cave, attempting to acclimate to the original darkness they’d discovered upon their arrival.

“Is everyone alright?” Ford asked.

“Y-yeah, I…I think so, Great Uncle Ford,” said Dipper.

“I’m pretty sure I can see all my colors again…” said Mabel, although she didn’t sound entirely confident about that.

“What the _HECK_ was _THAT_ ?!” Stanley cried, getting in front of Ford and gesticulating wildly. “‘Happy Holidays loving and trusting family! I hope you enjoy this gift of _random temporary blindness_!’?”

“It’s – I didn’t know it was going to do that! It’s never done that before!” Stanford fumbled, looking around the cave in a daze. “I don’t understand-”

“Hey Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford! Look at this!”

They both turned their heads in Mabel’s direction, where she and Dipper were standing and looking up, their faces bathed in a soft, blue light.

“Is that…?” Ford started to ask, and then stopped. One of the icicles had indeed remained blue, and continued to do so without any auditory input.

“I think…it may be stuck like that, Great Uncle Ford,” Dipper ventured. “All the other ones went out again like usual.”

“OH!” Everyone jumped at Mabel’s sudden shout. “The blessing from the spirits! This is it, Grunkle Ford! A light that never dims!”

Stanford stared at the icicle for some time. “And when they mentioned spirits bestowing it-”

“They must have been referring to that white light!” Dipper finished in a rush. “It makes sense, if there’s a bright white light that seems to temporarily blind people that comes out of _nowhere_ you’d probably assume something Not of This World did it!”

“Hey, that’s great,” Stan said insincerely. “Now why don’t we all move this party out of the cave that blinds people?”

“Sounds good to me. Be sure to grab the icicle, Great Uncle Ford!”

“What? No!” Stan jumped in front of Ford, attempting to block him from getting closer to the glowing icicle. “We do _not_ take strange, glowing objects that come from caves that _blind_ people!”

“It’s _temporary_ Grunkle Stan!” Mabel pointed out, ignoring his glower. “Plus, it was a gift! It would be rude _not_ to accept it!”

“You’re all crazy, every single one of you,” he declared, eyes narrowing as he watched Ford take the icicle and put it into a container for safe-keeping. “This place has warped your minds and I’m the only sane one left.”

“What does it say about us as a family that the only sane one of us doesn’t remember to turn on his appliances before he tries to use them?” Ford smirked as he bundled up the container safely in his backpack.

“IT HAPPENED _ONE_ TIME!”

 

**Mistletoe**

“Here you are: one rum with a dash of mulled apple cider,” Ford announced, as he placed his brother’s drink on the table before him.

“Oh har-dee-har-har,” Stan murmured with good humor, throwing a sly smile Ford’s way as he reached for his mug. “Aren’t you just _hilarious_.”

“I like to think I get in a good joke here and there.” Ford sighed as he leaned back into the couch, relaxing for what felt like the first time in days.

“Those brats running you ragged there, Ford?”

He felt a dip next to him on the couch and opened his eyes to Stanley grinning at him from about a foot away. Ford smiled. “I like to think I keep myself relatively fit for my age, but I have to admit: those kids _really_ take it out of me.”

“‘Course they do. They’re Pines kids! Half the height and twice the energy.” Stan winked as Ford laughed. “Don’t you remember what little hellions we were back in the day?”

“Do I? I’m shocked we weren’t banned for life from the entire boardwalk!”

“Remember when we would just go out and harvest fishermen’s lures _while_ they were fishing?” Stan cackled loudly. “Poor guys. Spending all that time trying to fix their new lures onto their lines, just for the same two little shits who stole the first one the _first_ time come back to finish the job!” He blew gently on the contents of his mug before taking a big gulp. “Do you even remember why we did that in the first place?”

Ford nodded. “We wanted to make a trap for a sea monster. We figured we’d weave them all together in this big net to catch its attention and ensnare it.”

“Moses!” Stan shook his head ruefully. “What a couple of idiots. Although, to be fair, that whole monster plan was _definitely_ a Ford thing.”

“And that whole ‘steal lures from fishermen’ plan was definitely a Stan thing,” Ford countered, giving Stanley a mini-salute with his mug.

“Ah yeah,” Stan grinned. “We made a good team.”

Ford snorted. “A terrible team, you mean. All the stupid things we did…”

“True,” Stan laughed. “But! I would counter that we did those stupid things _well_. Ergo, we made a good team.”

Stanford chuckled, letting his head loll to the side, enjoying this one-on-one time with his brother. It was most likely terribly selfish of him, considering they spent near every waking moment together on the Stan O War II, but he couldn’t help it. There was something so magnetic about Stanley – Ford had always wanted to spend as much time as he could with his twin, even when they were younger.

Of course, there was also that _other_ reason he may want to spend so much time with Stanley…

“Hey.”

Ford started when he felt a large hand come down on his left knee. He blinked stupidly at it for a bit, as if trying to figure out why it was there in the first place, before following it up past the strong forearm and bicep to meet his brother’s soft, brown eyes.

“I still think we make a good team. You know? Time may have passed and we may have changed a bit but overall…we’re good together. I think.” Stan said, finishing his thought with a gentle clearing of his throat as he looked down at his jean-clad thighs.

Who could resist? Ford smiled and placed his hand atop of Stan’s, giving it a warm squeeze. “I think we’re still good together, too.”

Stanley lifted his head up and suddenly Ford found himself frozen, pinned like a butterfly to a mounting board, pierced as he was by his twin’s intense gaze. He opened his mouth to say something…and just let it hang there. Awkward evidence of his feeling the need to say something without knowing exactly _what_ to say.

Luckily for him, his partner could fill in the blanks where he came up empty.

“Mabel’s been showing you all sorts of holiday traditions and stuff this week, right?” Stan prompted. When Ford nodded, he smiled softly. “I think there’s one she left off the list. I’ll be right back.”

He got up and went over to the doorway, jumping up and ripping down one of the plant decorations.

“Stanley!” Ford got up and hurried over, reaching out for the purloined plant only for it to be tossed from one hand to the other. “Stanley,” he warned as he reached out again for the plant only to have it be tossed _yet again_ to the other hand. “ _Really_ Stanley?” He stared down his brother and crossed his arms over his chest as his childish brother continued to grin maddeningly at him, lightly tossing the plant between his hands. “Mabel worked hard on these decorations!”

Stan shrugged. “I’m using it. I’ll put it back when I’m done.”

Ford raised a brow. “And when will you be done with it?”

His twin grinned. “When you take it, of course.”

“Stanley, we are over sixty years old. I am _not_ playing a game of keep-away with you.”

Stan threw his head back and laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. “Don’t play then! Just come and get it.”

“You’ll just move it out of the way if I do,” Ford pointed out, shifting his weight to his other leg.

“Not if you come to get it right,” his brother continued with that playful grin that reminded Ford of the Cheshire Cat’s.

“And I would do that by…”

“Kiss me.”

It was like all the air had been suddenly sucked out of the room. Ford stood stock still as Stan hesitated for only a moment before crossing the small gap that separated them, and held the small plant aloft over their heads. He licked his lips and Stanford was immediately drawn to that tease of bubblegum pink that peeked briefly between his lips. “You recognize this thing now?”

Ford nodded. “Mistletoe,” he breathed, the name conjuring up all sorts of unpleasant memories of girls shoving each other underneath the little bundle of leaves as a cruel prank to force each other to kiss the “freak”. “I…I don’t…no one ever wanted to…” He stuttered, feeling that heat of shame bloom across his ears and cheeks again.

Stan shook his head slowly. “That’s not true, Sixer. There was someone who did. Someone who always wanted to, but was…was too afraid to try.”

Ford’s heart was beating double-time in his chest. “‘Was’. Not anymore?”

The corner of Stan’s mouth kicked up in a self-deprecating smirk. “Well, still a little, yeah. I can’t lose you again Sixer. I can’t. If this isn’t what you want, we can go back to square one. Clean slate, just like after summer. I swear, the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable. But if it is…” He swallowed audibly and Ford’s gaze was drawn to his Adam’s apple, following the rise and fall. “Ford,” he called softly, smiling softly when Ford’s gaze immediately locked with his. “If this is something you want too, then I’m ready to dive right in. I had to go forty years without you…I’m going through withdrawal over here.” He chuckled self-consciously. “Hell, even having to share you with the kids has been a chore, which is crazy-”

“-Because you love the kids,” Ford continued, invading Stan’s personal space. “But somehow only one-on-one time will suffice.”

Stan’s gaze bored into his own. “Yeah,” he breathed finally, “it’s the damnedest thing.” He leaned in.

And Ford met him halfway.

At the first touch of Stanley’s lips to his own, Ford found himself melting into waiting arms. It felt like coming home.

Shakily, Ford gripped Stan's shoulders for support, as a strong hand gently angled his face to deepen their kiss, and the other wrapped around his waist to anchor him down. As if of its own accord, one hand reached up to wind into Stan’s hair to pull him closer.

Rough, calloused hands roamed through his own hair and down along his back, reciprocating the burning desire fueled by years of wanting. Stan’s thin lips were soft and addicting; Ford discovered quickly that one kiss wasn’t enough. Stan, being more experienced, stoked the flame of his ardor with gentle nips, and strokes of his talented tongue.

Stan started peppering kisses from Ford’s lips to his face and Ford pulled back just enough to look his brother in the eyes again.

Stan’s lips were swollen and his hair looked as though a mischievous wind had tousled it. As he re-situated himself, Ford bit his lip to hide a grin and tried his best to smooth down the messy hair. Stan gazed at him with a soft look, and Ford felt that now familiar hot tingle in his cheeks and ears. Stan chuckled, and held Ford closer.

“Happy Holidays Ford. You giant nerd.”

Ford threw his head back in a laugh, completely uninhibited and feeling as if he could fly.

“Happy Holidays Stanley. You ridiculous man.”


End file.
